


Good Little Girls Don't Come

by spectaculacularsammy



Series: Not Unless Sam Says [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bondage, Come Swallowing, Come as a gag, Dom!Sam, F/M, Impact Play, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Spanking, Subspace, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, butt plug, spreader bar, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Sam’s birthday, he wanted nothing more than to give you his birthday spankings and to watch you squirm, needy for him.</p><p>At one point, you were so good for him that you didn't beg him to let you come, instead, you begged to blow him. He told you 'no,' but also said, “Someday, we might have to discuss how many days I can keep you needy and on edge. You know I love it when you beg for my cock.”</p><p>Then, you played pool with Dean, and Sam mentioned how he liked to <i>watch you play</i>. Of course, the innuendo didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you told Sam that you preferred when <i>he played with you</i>. </p><p>Sam’s response? “I could play with you for <i>days</i>, little girl.” </p><p>It’s been weeks since Sam’s birthday, but he hasn’t forgotten his short conversation with you. In fact, he's been carefully planning for the right moment to bring it up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Practice Run

**Author's Note:**

> (the first chapter of this installment is a part of saxxology’s June Writing Challenge. My prompt was bondage.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr: [HERE](http://spectaculacular-sammy.tumblr.com/)

After Sam takes a shower to wash away the day, he makes his way down to his bedroom and is surprised when he finds it empty. Shrugging, because he knows you didn’t go anywhere and you’ve got to be around the bunker somewhere, he pulls on some clothes and starts to comb his hair.

An hour goes by, and in that time, Sam’s filled a few pages in a notebook. He grins at what he’s written and sends you a text.

A few minutes later, Sam gets a selfie of you in the shower.

-

In the shower, you haul ass to wash your hair and body and shave your legs. Taking a handful of extra minutes, you trim up ladytown. When you’re done, you quickly wrap up in a towel and pad wet-foot down the hallway to the bedroom that you share with Sam. As soon as you open the door, you see he’s sitting in bed with his back up against the wall. His chest is bare, and the sheet covers his lower half.

Sam looks at the alarm clock on his night stand and grins. “Twenty-five minutes, little girl. I’m pretty sure I said fifteen.”

You laugh shake your head at him and his grin. “I’m a girl, Sam. There are… _things_ that take some time.”

“I see.” Sam’s grin widens. “Well, why don’t you show me what took you ten extra minutes?”

Quickly, you pull away your towel and toss it onto the end of the bed.

“Very nice, little girl,” Sam tells you as he looks at how neatly you’ve trimmed yourself for him. He also sees that there’s drips of water running down your body, so he reaches for your towel and holds it up. “Come here. I’ll dry you off.”

Happily doing as you’re told, you walk up to the side of Sam’s bed and let him turn you this way and that, so he can dry off your body. When he’s done, he pulls you up into his lap, so your back is to his chest. As he rubs some lotion onto your arms and legs, he playfully asks, “So, what are we going to do about you being ten minutes late?”

You smile when he kisses up your naked shoulder and nibbles just under your ear. “I couldn’t _possibly guess_ , Sam. How can I _ever_ make it up to you?”

“We’ll talk about that in a little while.” Sam pulls your knee up and starts to rub lotion on your foot. “Remember I said I had something for you?”

You squeeze out some more lotion into Sam’s hand when he motions for it and watch him. Not that he’s not nice all the time, but tonight he’s being a little more…attentive. “I _do_ remember you said that.”

After taking a minute to finish rubbing lotion into your feet, Sam wipes his hands off on your bath towel and reaches for your comb. “Sit forward and I’ll comb your hair.” When he sees you give him a puzzled look, he gives you a nudge with his hand. “Go on.”

Grinning, you do what you’re told.

For a little while, Sam works out the wet tangles in your hair, careful so he doesn’t pull. When he’s about halfway done, he says, “So, before anything, I wanted to ask you about something.”

You shrug. “Sure.”

“Do you remember when we were in that bar on my birthday, and you were playing pool with Dean? I told you that I liked watching you play.”

You remember that moment very well. Your back is to Sam, but you still swallow your giddy smile and nibble on your bottom lip. “I remember.”

Sam also swallows his smile and keeps combing your hair even though he’s already been done for a few minutes. “And then _you said_ you preferred when _I played with you_.”

“I did say that,” you answer softly, the sound of your smile evident even though you try to keep it out of your voice. It’s been weeks since Sam’s birthday, and you honestly thought he wasn’t going to bring it up again. You’re _very_ happy that he is.

Hearing your smile, Sam’s lips curve up too. “And then _I said_ I could play with you _for days_. And I know there wasn’t an actual conversation about it, but you did… _in a way_ …tell me that you liked the idea too, so I was just wondering what you thought of it now.”

“I guess that depends,” you start and turn back to look at Sam.

“On?”

“Well, first, I’d need to know how many _days_ you had in mind.”

“I’m not sure,” is the only answer that he gives you, then puts your comb on his end table and hands you his notebook. “Tell me what you think.”

You start to skim the pages, but when you realize that he’s written more than _just a few pages_ , you look back at him. “My, you’re prepared.”

Coming from Sam, you don’t expect anything less.

After giving you a kiss, he tells you, “Just read it.”

As you read the pages, you see that Sam’s written out lists of toys that he wants to use, some that the two of you already have and some that he wants to purchase.

When you point to a couple that you’re unsure about and give Sam a look, he hands you his pen. “Cross out or add whatever you want.”

More of the pages have lists of possible scenes, and it’s more than you could have ever hoped for. Still, you edit a couple of things, but when you add some of your own, Sam groans against your shoulder, clearly appreciating your additions.

It’s very clearly written out that ‘under no terms’ are you hunting for however many days you decide to let Sam play, and he’s also got a contingency plan for if he needs to leave. It’s underlined a handful of times that you ‘will not be alone,’ and if he does have to leave, Dean will stay with you – written in all caps that he’s ‘NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH’ you beyond comforting and taking care of you.

Curious, you ask, “What would happen if you _and_ Dean needed to leave?”

“I’m really hoping that wouldn’t happen, but if it did, I’d take you with me.”

“But what about this?” You point to the part where he clearly stated that you wouldn’t be left alone.

“Just trust me,” Sam breathes softly in your ear. “I’ll _always_ take care of you.”

Of course, you trust him, so you turn the page, and you and Sam go through the rest together, making little notes, edits, and additions along the way.

After the last page is read and adjustments are made, you look back at Sam. “This doesn’t say how many days we would do this.”

Sam takes the notebook and pen out of your hands, sets it to the side, and pulls you, so you’re laying back on his chest. Once he’s got his legs tangled with yours and his arms wrapped around you, he asks, “How would you feel if I didn’t tell you how long?”

 _That_ was something you were _not_ expecting. Twisting so that Sam can see your face, you wrinkle your forehead and frown. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

Pressing a kiss into your knitted eyebrows, he chuckles. “I just mean that I would think of a certain number of days-”

“ _Days_ ,” you clarify. “As in more than seven means a week, and I’m _not_ okay with that.”

“Fine,” Sam concedes around a soft laugh. “Less than a week, but I was thinking that if you didn’t know how many _days_ , when I finally let you come, it would be more of a surprise.”

As tortuous – and delicious – as it sounds, you can’t argue with his logic. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Honestly? Since I said it. How long have _you_ been thinking about it?”

You grin up at Sam. “Since you said it.”

While he kisses your grin, you go through everything that you read in your mind and remember one a part. You thought about editing it, but wanted Sam to explain it first. “And the thing about the full submission?”

Sam forces himself to swallow his groan. “I was wondering if you were going to say anything about that. I only meant it for while I’m… _playing_ , and maybe for a few hours afterward.”

A little shocked, you ask, “ _A few hours_?”

“You’re a writhing mess when I make you wait for just a few minutes, and on your birthday you were practically…” Sam searches for the word. “ _Wrecked_.” He whispers in your ear, “And I loved every second of it, and I know you did too.” After you shyly nod your head, Sam keeps going, “When I wrote _full_ _submission_ , I just meant that I’d get to take care of you however I wanted to, and you’d have to let me.”

“And what did you mean when you said _while you were_ _playing_?”

“Well….” Sam chuckles and presses more kisses along your neck. “Just that you’re more than likely going to be tied up in some way, probably gagged…. I’ll put the bandana in your hand, so you can stop _everything_ if you need to. And the same goes for me; if at any time _I_ think it’s too much, I can stop it too. But other than that, if we do this, I get to do _whatever_ I want.” He reaches up and turns your face toward his, giving you another kiss. “And _I_ want _you_ to let me.”

“Jesus,” you sigh and melt into Sam. After a couple of breaths, you ask, “Can I look at that notebook again?”

“Of course you can.”

For the next hour, you make more edits and additions, while Sam rubs your back and presses gentle and patient kisses into your neck, reading over your shoulder.

When you start to write out some more of your own ideas, Sam groans in appreciation, then asks, “You’re really going to let me do this?”

“Thinking about it,” you tease, although you’ve already made your decision. When you close the notebook and put and the pen away, you add, “I do have one condition.”

“Anything,” Sam promises. He’d give you the breath from his lungs if you asked for it.

“ _Hypothetically_ ,” you try to stress the word, but the corners of your lips twitch as you try not to smile. “If I were to say we could start tomorrow, I think I might need you to let me come tonight.” You grin. “You know, one for the road.”

Sam kisses your grin, this one more urgent than any of the others. “Well, _hypothetically_ , if you said ‘yes,’ I’d be willing to give you more than one…."

You look into Sam’s hazel eyes, physically _watch_ his pupils dilate, and give your answer, “Yes, Sam.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he sighs, his voice gravelly. “_____, are you sure? Baby, you _have_ to be sure. You can have more time.”

“Don’t want more time,” you insist and reach to kiss Sam’s lips. “And I _am_ sure. I’ve wanted this ever since you mentioned it on your birthday.”

Needing a second, because planning for and wanting something is so much different than actually _getting it_ , Sam buries his face in the juncture of your shoulder and neck and just breathes. After a little bit, he reaches for your chin and turns your face back to him. “Before I say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ I just want to try something, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo back, curious as to what Sam’s thinking about.

Seeing the look on your face, he holds it in his hands, softly touches your cheeks, gently smooths your hair, then presses his lips to yours. When he's given you a tender kiss, he whispers, "Say it for me."

"Impala," you say back just as softly.

"Good girl." Sam kisses you one more time, then tells you, “Practice run. All rules apply, little girl.”

 “Yes, Sam.”

“Off to a good start.” To make room for you, he spreads his thighs further apart. “Up on your knees for me, little girl.”

Once you’re up on your knees, Sam gets up on his too, so that he’s kneeling behind you. His hands travel back up your body and stop on your shoulders.

A sigh slips from your lips when Sam’s thumbs gently dig into your muscles, loosening them up with small circles and long, gentle motions along the surface of your skin. When he’s done, he takes your left arm, lifts it up over your head, and bends your elbow, so that your hand touches your opposite shoulder blade, stretching your muscles. After a thirty second pause – where Sam kisses your skin instead of counts – he switches to your right arm and repeats the whole process.

After a few more stretches – and dozens more kisses – Sam brings your arms behind your back and has you cross them. Because of his massage and stretches, you move into the position with ease, but Sam still asks, “That feel okay?”

“Yes, Sam.”

When you’re done answering him, you feel Sam shift off of the bed behind you, but when you look back at him, he turns your face back forward. “Keep still for me, little girl.”

Just a second after he leaves the bed again, Sam’s back behind you. He takes your wrists in his hands and starts to wind a piece of cord around them. The cord is soft, well-used, and feels like silk on your skin as Sam’s skilled and gentle hands bind your wrists to your opposite forearms.

After checking to make sure that nothing is too tight, he brings the cord up the back of your right shoulder, pulls it across your chest and under your opposite arm, pulls it through the knot around your wrists, and runs it back up your other shoulder.

With the remainder of the length of rope, Sam starts to wrap the cord around your ribs, securing your upper arms to the sides of your body. With every turn of the rope, he alternates between going above and below your breasts, binding them as well as your upper body.

By the time he’s got the last careful knot made and the excess rope trimmed with a pair of blunt-tipped scissors, your whole body is quivering with anticipation. Of course, Sam sees and expects this, so he presses his chest into your back and wraps his upper body around yours, holding you.

“Are you doing okay?” he asks softly in your ear, brushing his lips along the outer shell.

Trying to catch your breath, you nod your head. “Yes, Sam.”

He gives you another minute, then asks, “Anything too tight or pinching?”

You wiggle your wrists and find nothing uncomfortable. “No, Sam.”

Sliding his hands up your body and cupping your bound breasts in his hands, Sam slides his thumbs over your hard and pointed nipples. The ropes are _never_ tight enough to cut off circulation, but just tight enough to make everything insanely more sensitive. You arch your back and gasp at Sam’s touch, pushing your breasts further into his hands.

“We haven’t done this in a while, have we, little girl?” Groaning into the side of your face, Sam takes one of his hands away from your breast and drags it down your body to cup your pussy in his hand. You buck again at the touch, desperate for more, but Sam only uses your body as leverage to rut his solid cock against your ass. “I almost forgot how much we like this.”

The dry slide of his cock along the cleft of your ass makes Sam groan, but the feeling of your slick pussy under his fingers makes him want.

“I’ve hardly even touched you, little girl, and you’re already so wet for me.” He slowly slides one finger between your soaked lower lips and touches your clit just once, chucking darkly when you moan and then whimper when he stops. “I could bend you over right now and fuck you just like this, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, Sam,” you gasp, trying to rock your hips into his hand. “Please.”

“I don’t think so, little girl, but you are going to bend over for me.” He takes his hand away from your pussy and brings it to your hip, his other hand leaving your breast and holding tight to the knot at your wrists and gently pushes you down, so that your face is in the bedding.

He soothingly rubs your back and raised ass for a few minutes, giving you a chance to catch your breath, then says, “Earlier, I told you that you had fifteen minutes to shower. How long did it take you?”

You turn your face to the side, so you can answer him, “Twenty-five minutes, Sam.”

“So, you were ten minutes late.” Sam brings both of his hands down to your ass and squeezes it tightly in his fists. “You read what I wrote in the notebook, little girl. Tell me what it says I’m going to do when you don’t listen to what I say?”

You take a deep breath. “Spank me with whatever you see fit, Sam.” Knowing that it’ll reassure him to know that you really understand what you’re in for, you swallow and start to recite, “Hand, crop, or paddle. The number of spankings contingent on said infraction or wholly by your digression, Sam.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groans under his breath, and you bite your lip to keep from smiling when he has to clear his throat. “That’s right, little girl,” he purrs with his voice back to normal. Wanting to hear more, Sam slides his fingers between your ass cheeks and asks, “And starting tomorrow, what will be _here_?”

You moan from his touch and tug on ropes. “A plug, Sam.”

Adding a little bit of pressure onto your furled opening, he asks another question, “Why?”

“Because you say so, Sam,” you breathlessly answer.

“And?”

“Because you like how wet it makes me, Sam,” you add, then gasp when his hand comes down on your ass a couple of times.

When he’s done, Sam massages your stinging skin, randomly squeezing your ass with his hands and groaning at the needy sounds you’re already making. “So, you know that I’m going to spank you whenever you don’t listen. When _else_ am I going to spank you, little girl?”

“When-whenever you want, Sam,” you stammer, feeling your achy pussy start to leak down the insides of your thighs.

“ _Very_ good.” Sam continues rubbing your pinked ass with his hands. “And _why_ am I going to spank you _right_ _now_?”

You both whimper and moaning longingly at his touch. “Because you told me I had fifteen minutes to shower, and I took twenty-five, Sam.”

“That’s right. I think one for every minute you were late should work.”

“Yes, Sam.”

“Should I get the paddle, little girl?”

 _That_ gets your attention. You and Sam have the paddle, because used in _certain ways_ it's enjoyable for both of you. However, he's never used it as a punishment before. You take a deep breath. “If that’s what you want, Sam.”

Spanking your ass and all games aside, Sam loves you just the way you are. He loves your heart and brain, loves that you’ve got your own personality, and he loves your quirks. He loves that you’re smart and strong, kind and compassionate, and he’d _never_ change anything.  However, there’s one more thing amongst the many, _many_ others that he also loves. Sam loves all your kinks, how yours align perfectly opposite with his; you give, so that he can take and give right back to you, tenfold.

Reaching up to stroke your back with one of his hands, writing all the things that he loves into your skin, Sam murmurs, “I don't think so, little girl I like this perfect ass in my hands.”

You sigh in relief, but then yelp, startled, when his hand starts coming down on your ass.

Through the ten spankings, Sam reaches around your body and slowly works his fingers up and down your clit. None of the spankings are very hard, but by the time he’s finished, Sam’s breathing heavily, you’re panting, aching, and needy, and your ass – along with Sam’s hand – is pleasantly warm.

You try to catch your breath as Sam runs his hand over your heated skin, whining when he takes both of his hands away and uses the knotted rope at your back to pull your upper body back up toward him.

He uses his strong arms and hands to turn you around, so that you’re facing him. When Sam sees that you're doing well, he tells you, “Sit back on your heels, little girl.”

Hissing softly when your tender ass touches the backs of your legs, you do what you’re told and watch as Sam moves, making his cock level with your mouth. Without even being told, you part your lips, but wait for permission to move.

After putting his hand in front of your face, Sam tells you, “Get it wet for me, little girl.”

Quickly, you eagerly do what you’re told, licking all the way from the palm of his hand to the tips of his fingers. When you’re done, Sam uses his slick hand to stroke himself, randomly bumping your lips with the head of his cock.

After a couple of minutes, he’s leaking, and your lips are slick with his wetness. “Love this mouth, little girl,” he groans, using his other hand to lightly touch your cheek with his fingertips. “You took your spankings so good. Do you wanna make me come?”

You look up at him and his pupil-blown hazel eyes as they watch you and your mouth. “Please, Sam.” He keeps brushing your cheek with his thumb, and you can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter with each passing minute. “Please, Sam,” you repeat softly and lick away his pre-come from your bottom lip. “ _Please_ , let me make you come.”

Groaning, because he really does love when you beg for his cock, Sam pushes himself between your lips and along your tongue and slowly starts to roll his hips. When you try to suck him harder and blow him faster, he threads one of his hands through your hair and stops you. “No, little girl. You _only_ get what I give you.”

Because your mouth is full of Sam, you’re only able to nod your head. As he tells you how good you are for him, he twists his body, so he’s able to reach down and cup your pussy with his other hand. He only squeezes it, never slides his fingers along your clit or inside of you.

You want him to touch you more, so when he pulls his cock out of your mouth and brushes it against your lips, you beg, “Please, Sam.”

Still only palming you, he asks, “Please, _what_?”

“Please, touch me more, Sam.”

“No, little girl.” He takes his hand away, gently shushing you when you whimper. “But if you want, you can make me come.”

You still ache, but Sam’s words make you moan. “Yes. Please, Sam. I want to.”

“Then, go ahead, little girl. You can.”

Instantly, you lick Sam’s cock back into your mouth, moaning when his fingers thread back into your hair to gently cradle the back of your head.

“So good, little girl,” he grits out when your tongue lathes around the tip, then breathes in a sharp breath through his teeth when you suck him down even further.

Slick from palming your pussy, Sam uses his other hand to cup and roll his balls as you blow him. As he touches himself, the tips of his fingers rub at the sensitive skin behind them, and he groans when you try to take all of his cock into your mouth.  

It doesn’t take long for Sam to feel that heat in his middle, but he takes your mouth and tongue as long as he can. When the insides of his thighs start to tremble, and he wants nothing more than to come down your throat, Sam forces himself to wait. He controls himself, holds his orgasm back, regardless of how amazing your mouth feels. When he can’t take it anymore, he grabs the knot in the rope at your back and uses it to pull your mouth off of him.

“Saaam,” you whine, licking the spit and pre-come from your lips. You know he was _so close_ to coming; you could _taste_ it.

“I already told you, you _only_ get what _I_ give you, little girl. Open that mouth back up, little girl. I don’t remember saying you were done.”

Wanting Sam’s come in your mouth more than just about anything, you do what you’re told. You watch him stroke his cock faster, only slowing down to twist his fist over the sensitive tip.

“ _Shit_ ,” he groans just before he comes and looks down at you. “Don’t swallow, little girl. Hold it on your tongue.”

When Sam comes, he rocks his hips into his hand, making the head of his cock brush against your bottom lip. Both he and you groan when his come spurts out right into your mouth. You obediently let it pool on your tongue and watch Sam fist his cock, working out a few stray ropes of his come, as his body twitches and jerks through his orgasm.

After he catches his breath, he sees that you’re back up on your knees with your mouth open, his come pooled in the center of your tongue. Your lips and cheeks are flushed, your wet hair is mussed and needs to be combed again, but Sam thinks you’re beautiful.

He tells you so, as he slides his fingertips along your body, loving how your skin is so soft and smooth under his hands and how the ropes cradle your curves perfectly. He listens to you whimper softly, knowing that you want more.

“Be patient, little girl,” he tells you, then watches you nod your head, unable to answer him with your mouthful of come.

Holding your bound breasts in his hands, Sam feels his cock already twitching and filling from the sounds you make. He’s barely touching you, but you’re _so sensitive_.

God, Sam loves when you’re like this, but what he loves even more is that  _you_ love it too.

After taking a minute to admire you, he gently nudges your knees apart and sits back down on the bed. Before he does anything more, he brings his hands up to your cheeks and gently cups your face, murmuring softly, “If you feel like you’re going to choke, or if it's _ever_  too much, all you have to do is spit it out. Okay?”

When you nod your head, telling him that you understand his safeword alternative, Sam moves one of his hands to cup your slick pussy again, and his voice changes from soft to rough. “You can swallow when I tell you that you can, little girl.”

You nod your head again and gasp when Sam slowly eases two fingers inside of you. Wanting to touch him, you instinctively pull on the rope wrapped around your wrists, then whine when it prevents you from moving.

“No, little girl.” Sam moves free hand down to hold your hip as he uses his teeth to tug on your nipples. “I like you _just_ like this. I might have to keep you here for a while.”

With your mouth wide, you whine, then moan when Sam fucks his fingers up against your g-spot, gasping when his thumb comes up to circle your clit.

“Don’t come,” he reminds you, his voice muffled by your breast.

As best you can, you make an affirmative sound, trying to tell Sam that you’ll be good.

With how wet you are, the sounds coming out from between your legs are slick and filthy. Every time Sam moves his hand, the wet, squelching noises get louder, only drown out by your open-mouthed noises.

Sam can tell you’re close. It never takes you long. You’re gushing on his fingers and hand, and he can feel your nipple tightening even further against his tongue. When he feels your body start to shake – both from need and holding yourself up – Sam slows down his thumb and fingers.

Trying not to let Sam’s come spill from your tongue, you whine, trying to lean closer to him. When the rope holds you still, you try to move your hips, looking for your own friction. Of course, Sam holds you still.

His fingers just barely slide along your g-spot, and his thumb lightly circles your clit. When he looks up at you, he sees a little line of his come and your drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth. He takes his fingers out of you, uses them to pick up that wetness on your chin and wipes it back onto your waiting tongue, giving you little tastes of yourself.

“Keep it on your tongue, little girl. I didn’t say you could swallow it yet.”

When you pant and whine for your answer, he slides his fingers back inside you and fucks you with them hard and fast to get you right back on that edge. Just when you’re there, Sam slows everything down, hardly moving his hand at all, just keeping you _right there_.

Even though you’re almost out of your mind with want and need, you know exactly what he’s doing. His touches aren’t enough to make you come, but too much to let you come down. Sam’s other arm is wrapped around your back, holding onto your opposite hip, and making it so you can’t move. It’s maddening.

“I want you to remember this _exact_ feeling, little girl, ‘cause I wanna do this _for days_.” \

As you moan uncontrollably, Sam flicks his tongue over one of your nipples. He’s still only giving you the perfect amount of stimulation. You can’t come, and you can’t calm down. 

This is the perfect place for Sam: you’ll do anything he asks you to, and both you and he know it. You once told Sam that it's both torture and pure bliss all at the same time.

You love it.

“The leather straps are still hooked under my bed, little girl. I could tie you down. My hand would be right here, doing this exact thing, keeping you _right there_. I could put those clamps on these beautiful nipples.” He gives one a nip with his teeth, then a little tug. His solid cock jumps when you whine with your mouth full of his come. “And your mouth….” He strokes your bottom lip. “God, _fuck_ , the things I could do to this mouth, little girl.”

You shiver and whine even louder, wishing you could beg for Sam’s cock.

“You like that, don’t you, little girl?”

“Uh huh,” you shakily moan.

“You’re doing _so good_ , little girl, keeping my come in your mouth. Do you like it there?” After you make a sound meaning that you do, Sam continues, “I like it there too, little girl. But you can’t beg, can you?”

“Nuh uh,” You shake your head, desperate.

Sam could watch you like this for hours: bound, wrecked, needy… _beautiful_ , and he plans on it in the days to come. Your nipples are so hard and pointed up at him, ropes wrapped perfectly around your body, thighs trembling, and he loves it. But there’s one more thing he wants.

Quickly, Sam gets himself back up on his knees and puts his face right into yours. His hand not buried between your legs grabs a handful of your hair, and he looks right into your eyes. “Swallow it, little girl.”

The second that your mouth is free of Sam’s come, you start begging, “ _Please_ , Sam. Please, I need to-”

“No, little girl,” Sam cuts you off. “This time, you say what  _I_ want you to say, and _I want_ you to repeat after me, ‘ _Good little girls don’t come_ ’.”

Because Sam would never lie to you, you don’t even think about how he said that he’d let you come tonight – more than once – and the words tumble desperately out of your mouth, “Good little girls don’t come.”

“That’s right.” Sam keeps his fingers moving over your g-spot and clit in the exact way that’s making you crazy.

You’re right there.

He can feel you dripping down his wrist, and his cock aches to be where his hand is. “Say it _again_ , little girl.”

“Good little girls-” You moan low, feeling yourself get closer and closer. “I’m gonna come, Sam!”

Sam doesn’t stop anything; he knows he’s not giving you enough. “No, _you’re_ _not_ , little girl, ‘cause I’m not gonna let you. _Say it again."_

“Good little girls don’t come,” you moan, then start repeating yourself over and over again. “Goodlittlegirlsdon’tcomegoodlittlegirlsdon’tcome.”

“ _So_ _fucking_ perfect, little girl.” Sam watches you for another few seconds, then so careful not to make you come, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy. In a soft and gentle voice, he tells you, “You did _so good_ , baby. All done.”

When Sam denies you like this, there are two places that you can go: you can fight it, beg for more, even get mouthy with him, or you simply can let go. The first option is typically instinct, but the second is _always_ better.

During the times that you choose to let go, there’s this place between Sam’s neck and shoulder where your head fits perfectly. When you’re there, and when he can feel you trembling against him, he always wraps himself around you, holds you close, gives you soft praises with kisses behind his words, and his hands feel like the softest suede on your skin. His touch soothes you, but doesn’t completely take away the ache. And that’s okay, because there’s a part of you that craves it.

That ache is addictive; it’s like a high that only Sam can give you. That’s why you said ‘yes’ to his undetermined days of denial, and it’s why you _want_ _it_.

As Sam watches you in front of him, he can see the exact moment when you choose to let go. He holds you when you collapse against him, and works quickly, but gently to untie and get you out of the rope. Once the white cord is off of your body and on the floor, he soothingly strokes his hands up and down your back.

“Baby, just breathe,” he murmurs in your ear as he lays you down on his soft bedding.

After checking your skin for friction burns from the rope and his careful knots, Sam covers them with kisses and rubs some soothing lotion on them. When he’s done, he fits himself between your spread thighs, gently rests down on top of you, supporting most of his weight on his thighs and knees and one arm. The second he touches you, your body rocks up against him, looking for the tiniest modicum of stimulation.

“Come down a little bit, first,” he tells you softly, his promise implied.

When you force yourself to nod your head, Sam soothingly strokes his hand up and down your side. “This is what it’s gonna be like, baby. You sure you want this? You’ll let me make you like this? _Keep_ you like this?”

“Yes,” you breathe, the sound barely there. You wish that sound could be more, because you really do want it.

Most wouldn’t think it possible, but even though your sound is soft, it makes Sam melt. He’s a six foot four, two hundred pound, grown man, and he melts just like you.

Going so slow, he pushes himself up on his knees, holds you close, and gently eases his aching cock inside of you. Both you and he gasp and groan, instantly clinging to each other, as Sam keeps his promise.

‘One for the road’ was your condition, and Sam _always_ keeps his word, though he intends on giving you more than one.

Still with the same slow pace, Sam moves, and you move with him. Eager, you try to pull his hips into yours, urging him to speed up his thrusts, but he slows you back down. Sam wants it to last; _he_ wants to last, so he can make you come as many times as possible before he can’t take it anymore.

Even with Sam’s slow pace, it doesn’t take long for that heat to re-light in your center. You can feel his cock stretching you from the inside every time he pushes into of you, angled perfectly, while his groin presses against your clit.

“Go ahead, baby,” Sam sighs against your mouth. You didn’t breathe a word, but he knows – he _always knows_. “Come for me.”

Of course, you do, and this is where you get to reap the rewards of being good for Sam. When he denies you, he forces your body to hold back and stack up all your need and want into precarious piles that only _he_ gets to knock over, and when he does, it’s _indescribable_.

Those precarious piles splinter and shatter everywhere, tingling and throbbing from the tips of your toes all the way up to your lips that cry out Sam’s name. He answers it back with the same slow thrusts, adding more power behind them at that same perfect angle, same perfect _everything_ , until you’re coming again, like it’s one long orgasm that Sam _makes_ continue repeatedly.

Your brain loses the ability to count how many times Sam makes you come, while his mind constantly thinks _just one more_ , and when the heat in his own middle takes away his capability to do simple math, that’s when he lets go.

He shouts through your wails and kisses you until his lungs burn for air. He knows he’s holding you too tightly, knows that it’s got to hurt. But you’re clutching him in the exact same way – it hurts, but not in the way that Sam would _ever_ tell you to stop.

As both yours and Sam’s orgasms fade, little by little, grasps relax, muscles unclench, and one last simultaneous moan escapes your mouth and Sam’s when he slips out of you.

Then, the blur takes you.

When you come back, the lights in the bedroom are dim, and you’re wrapped in a Sam-blanket cocoon.

He kisses your nose. “Thought you might sleep the whole night.”

You shake your head and try to bury your exhausted smile in Sam’s chest, but he stops you, "Is anything sore?" 

When Sam feels you wiggle your wrist, he gently rubs some more lotion on it, blowing on the soothing cream until it's dry.

“Do you need anything?”

“Water,” you croak. You feel parched, probably from all the screams that Sam thrust out of you. Complaining is not in your vocabulary right now.

You drink when Sam holds a bottle of water up to your lips, cradling your head with his upper arm and shoulder, so nothing spills. After he takes the water away, you curl back into him, sighing when he starts to finger-comb your hair.

After a little while, he softly tells you, “I think I’m going to have to add this to the notebook.”  

You’ve totally come back to yourself, and you laugh softly. “Combing my hair or the swaddling?”

Taking a second, Sam weighs his options. “Both.”

You hum in agreement, and Sam goes back to what he now considers his job. Your hair is so soft under his fingers that when he’s done, he hates to stop, but he knows you’re tired. Careful not to jostle you, he reaches behind himself to switch off his lamp.

After it’s completely dark in Sam’s bedroom, you wrap your arms around his neck and gently pull his face down to yours to kiss him. “You didn’t say how you thought the practice run went.”

Sam returns your kisses, smiling against your lips. “ _Perfect_. Still want to start tomorrow?”

“Of course I do.” You quietly laugh. “If you were trying to talk me out of it, what we just did wasn’t the way to do it.”

“I assure you, _that_ was not me trying to talk you _out_ of it.”

You laugh again, and press another kiss to Sam’s lips, lightly sweeping your tongue along his. He lets you do it once, returns it with a gentler version, and then tucks your head under his chin. “Go to sleep.”

Feeling a little sassy, you ask, “Thought we weren’t starting until tomorrow?”

Sam shakes his head and hides his smile even though it’s dark in his bedroom. “It’s after midnight; it _is_ tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep, little girl.”

Thinking there’s no way you’re going to be that easy, Sam waits a minute. However, when that minute passes, and you’re dutifully quiet and still in his arms, he kisses the top of your head. “Good girl.”

You resist the urge to nibble on his collarbone and go to sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Sam's birthday, he bought you a butt plug, and you wore it while you, he, and Dean went to the bar and had a few beers.
> 
> That night, after Sam brought up his filthy idea of keeping you on edge and needy for him _for days_ , he mentioned getting you one that you could wear for a longer period of time. 
> 
> Well, now that those _days_ are here, like always, Sam's kept his word.
> 
> *I've also worked in a prompt from the lovely roxy-davenport's June writing challenge: "Crawl to me." (Yes, I know it's July, but she's given me an extension. She's fab.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has not been beta'd by anyone. Please excuse my typos.
> 
> This is also much shorter than my usual fics. Sorry 'bout that, but there'll be many more in this particular installment in the next few weeks. ;)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [HERE](http://spectaculacular-sammy.tumblr.com/)

The next morning when Sam wakes up, he’s surprised at how late he’s slept. When he looks at his phone, there aren’t any texts from Dean, announcing a lead on a case, so Sam doesn’t think anything of the late hour. Instead, he rolls back over toward you.

You’re fast asleep, curled up in a ball at his left side and using his arm as a pillow. Careful not to wake you, Sam traces his fingers up and down your spine, lightly touching your bare skin. He smiles when you stay fast asleep, but arch into his hand, then roll over onto your stomach, showing him your entire back.

Moving so slowly, Sam rests his cheek on the back of your shoulder. He can hear your slow heart beats, your long and deep breaths going in and coming out, and the random, soft hums that you make in your sleep. They make him smile; he loves those sounds.

For a little while longer, Sam keeps drawing gentle lines up and down your back, lightly kissing your skin when you breathe in and your back touches his lips.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel you lightly shift under his cheek. You point your toes, make more of those adorable little humming noises, and sleepily smack your lips. Just a minute later, Sam feels you press a kiss on the inside of his arm.

He curls his body around the back of yours and takes you in his arms, spooning you. “Hey,” Sam whispers in your ear, smiling as he presses a kiss into your temple.

“Hmm,” you contentedly answer back, absolutely loving when you’re able to wake up this way. There’s no rush, only warmth and Sam wrapped around you.

When you go quiet again, Sam quietly asks, “Do you need to sleep some more?”

“Nuh uh.” You roll over in his arms and bury your face in his chest. “Just comfy.”

Smiling at your sleepiness, Sam rolls onto his back and takes you with him, so that you’re lying on top of him. He tangles his ankles with yours and resumes lightly dragging his fingertips up and down your back and bare ass.

In turn, with your cheek resting on the right side of Sam’s chest, you make small circles with your thumb onto his naked skin, and the two of you stay quiet in each other’s arms, almost falling back to sleep.

A little while later, Sam hears your stomach rumble. He silently chuckles and kisses the top of your head, “If I go and get you some breakfast, will you be all right by yourself?”

In your half-asleep state, you’re confused for a second, but then remember the night before. Sam’s notebook, all the skin-tingling lists written inside, the contingency plan, the rules: During the days that Sam _plays with you_ , he doesn’t want you left alone.

You look up at him. “Of course I will be. You do realize that there will be times throughout the day where I will _have_ to be by myself, right? You’re _not_ following me into the bathroom.”

“Is that so?” he playfully teases, but he knows that you’re right. Neither you nor he are into _that_.

When you grin at him, Sam slides his hands down to your hips and pulls your body up his. Both you and he groan softly when he fits your thighs around his hips and sits up, holding you to his chest. “How about I go down and get some breakfast, and you do whatever you need to do?”

“Okay,” you agree, smiling when Sam kisses your forehead.

“Is there anything specific that you want to for breakfast?”

“Coffee.”

“And to eat?”

“Coffee.”

Smirking at you and shaking his head, Sam lifts you up off of him and sets you on the bed, then stands up and starts to pull on some clothes. “I might just have to bring you back some juice,” he teases.

Gasping in mock-horror, you wrap yourself in the bedding. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Still teasing, he answers, “Oh, I would.”

After pulling a tee shirt over his head, Sam digs in one of your dresser drawers, and you eagerly watch as he digs through your various sets of stocking and garter belts. However, you’re a little shocked when he hands you a simple black thong.

“You can wear whatever clothes that you want, just wear these too.”

“Are you sure?” you curiously ask. “There’s other stuff in that drawer I know you like more….”

Sam walks back toward you and lightly cups your cheek with his hand while his thumb skates over your bottom lip. A grin twitches on his lips, and he answers, “I’m _very_ sure.” After a breath, Sam continues, “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” He bends down to kiss you softly. “Take all the time you need.”

Before Sam moves away from you, he slides his hand under your sheet and cups your pussy with his hand. “No touching while I’m gone. Got it?”

You nod your head, panting from the light touch. Sam kisses you once more, takes his hand away, gives you a grin, then walks out of his bedroom.

Quickly, you jump up off the bed, pull on something to wear to the bathroom, then grab a comfy pair of leggings, a bra, a tank top, and the black thong that Sam picked out for you, and make your way to the bathroom.

Like Sam said, you take your time with everything you need to do, then go back to the bedroom. When you walk inside, Sam’s sitting on his bed, the notebook next to him, as he drinks a cup of coffee. He greets you with a loving smile and motions for you to come sit by him. You do, and the two of you share breakfast and coffee around gentle kisses.

After the last cup of coffee is gone, Sam sets the tray of dishes on the end of the bed, pulls you into his lap, and shows you the notebook. “Do you want to or need to look at this again?”

Without answering him, you take it and start to thumb through the pages, even though you’ve already looked at it several times. Just like the night before, Sam reads with you over your shoulder. When you get to the last page, you close the notebook and hand it back to Sam. “It’s exactly the same as it was last night.”

He puts the notebook back on his end table and holds you. “ _Exactly_ the same. I just wanted to make sure.”

Looking back at Sam, you tell him, “I already said I was sure.”

“I want to tell you again, if _anything_ is too much, you can stop it, just like any other time. I won’t do anything to you that’s not in that notebook, but if you decide you don’t want it, all you have to do is say the word.”

“I know.”

“I know you do, but I still want you to say it.”

Like it always does, with those few words – knowing what they are, what they mean, and what they _start_ – your breath quickens, and your heart races. “Impala.”

Groaning at your quiet and single word, Sam takes your arms in his hands and brings them back around his neck. His hands slowly slide down the insides of your arms and your ribs, coming back up to cup your breasts in his hands. When you sigh and wind your fingers through the back of Sam’s hair, he hooks his thumb around the top of your tank top and pulls it down, so that he can trace the soft material of your bra.

Thinking that Sam wants your shirt off, you take your hands away from the back of his head and start to pull it off, but he gently stops you and puts your hands back where they were. “Leave them here, little girl,” he urges you softly.

Gasping when his thumb lightly drags over your nipple, you tighten your fingers back in his hair. “Yes, Sam.”

“Good little girl,” he purrs in your ear. After a little while of massaging your breasts and teasing your nipples through your bra, Sam tells you, “Now, I want you to pull your knees up and spread your legs for me. Put your feet around the outsides of my knees.”

When you do as Sam said, your foot accidentally nudges the tray of breakfast dishes, making the glass rattle slightly. Sam pushes it out of the way and helps you finish moving yourself. “Good. Just like that.”

You whine when he takes his hands away from your breasts, but he shushes you softly as he slides them down your middle. Through your soft cotton pants, he strokes the insides of your thighs with his palms, and asks, “In that notebook, there’s all kinds of lists of things that I want to do to you, but there’s also lists of things that I want _you_ do to for me. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, I remember, Sam,” you tell him breathlessly.

Moving his hands up the insides of your thighs, he lightly drags his fingers up and down the inseam of your pants, directly over your slit. “Why don’t you tell me some of them.”

“Sam,” you pant and then have to stop to catch your breath.

“Shhh,” he whispers soothingly. “Breathe first. Take your time, little girl. There’s no rush.”

After a few breaths, you start again. “You want me to touch myself while you watch, Sam.”

Sam breathes purposefully too. “Yeah, little girl, I do. Tell me one more.”

Just a few minutes ago, you would have been able to recite the entire list word for word, but with Sam’s hands rubbing over your most sensitive place, you can hardly think. “You want me to- Sam, you want me to keep your cock in my mouth while you’re busy doing something.”

Moving his hands to the undersides of your thighs, Sam slides them up just under your ass and rubs you against his aching cock. “That’s a good one, little girl,” he groans. “But if I remember right, _you’re_ the one who added that one.”

When Sam grabs the backs of your legs, just for a second, the tips of his fingers just barely squeeze the juncture of your thighs, and you squirm, looking for more. As you do, your foot bumps the tray of breakfast dishes again.

Sam moves to put it on his end table to prevent you from accidentally kicking it off the bed, but halfway there, he stops and brings his hand back to your leg. Just holding you in his hands, he waits for you to catch your breath, then asks you, “Will you please bring this tray over to my desk, so we don’t knock it on the floor?”

Utterly confused, you look back at Sam, but before you can say anything, he unhooks your legs from his and turns you around, so you can get up off the side of the bed that’s opposite of his desk. “Go on,” he tells you gently, “I don’t want to have to stop and clean up broken glass.”

You’re still puzzled by Sam’s request, but you reach for the tray, stand up, then walk around the bed, and set it on the top of the desk. When you’re done, you start to climb back up on the other side of Sam’s bed, but he stops you, “No, little girl. Go around the way you came.”

Thoroughly confused, you just look at Sam. However, it’s a simple – though very, _very_ odd – thing to do, so you start to do it, but Sam stops you again, “Remember that list, little girl?”

The second he says that, you know _exactly_ what he’s going to ask you to do, but you wait for it.

Seeing the look on your face, Sam knows exactly what you’re thinking. Sliding his hands up the insides of his own thighs, he cups the bulge in his pants. “I want you to **crawl to me** , little girl.”

After the words come out of Sam’s mouth, he sees this look in your eyes, and he knows it’s hunger. You do exactly what he tells you do to, and stroking himself through his cotton pants, he watches you crawl on your hands and knees around the bed.

Sure, it’s totally a submissive thing to do, and while Sam does enjoy that part, that’s not the _only_ part that he enjoys.

As you move, one hand and one knee at a time, Sam watches you and watches you watch him. That same hungry look stays on your face and in your eyes, and to him, it looks like you’re ready to pounce on him. You look up at him, and even though your present position is about as subservient as they come, you look _anything_ but.

You look strong, like you know _exactly_ what you want – though Sam’s one hundred percent sure that you do – and you move with a grace and confidence that he could watch for hours. Unfortunately, the path around his bed isn’t a large one, so it takes you just a few seconds to get to the side of his bed.

As soon as you’re there, Sam scoops you up and brings you back into his lap. He looks at your pupil-blown eyes, the aroused-pink in your cheeks and lips, and his mouth is on yours in a second, as he pins you down on the bed.

Breathless, you kiss Sam just as ferociously as he kisses you. As his tongue delves into your mouth to find yours, you wrap your legs around his waist, knowing in your mind that he’s not going to let you come, but you want to feel him anyway.

Just as you do it, Sam takes his mouth away from yours and looks down at you. “I think it’s time to get these pants off, don’t you, little girl?”

“Yes.” You smile in relief, as you nod your head and bring your hands down to the waistband of your pants. “Yes, Sam.”

Chucking softly, he takes your hands away and puts them on the bed. “I meant _my_ pants.”

You whine when Sam unwraps your legs from his hips and watch him stand up, quickly pulling off his shirt. When he pushes his pants down, his cock springs free, arcing up against his lowers abs, but just as you start to look, Sam tells you, “On your stomach, little girl. Cross your arms and rest your head on them.” He watches you do what you’re told, but you move your head, so that you can keep watching him. Sam grins. “Face down until I come back.”

“Bossy,” you sass quietly, so Sam can’t hear you, then do what you’re told.

Except, Sam _does_ hear you and says back, “ _Sassy_.” After chuckling to himself, because your sassiness is almost always adorable, he states, “Pretty brave for someone whose ass is _right there_.”

 _Dammit_ , you think to yourself, and without moving your head you tell him, “Sorry, Sam.”

After he’s gotten what he wants from the top drawer of his dresser, he closes it and asks with an amused grin on his face, “You got it out of your system, little girl?”

You can hear the grin on his face, so you answer honestly, “Probably not, Sam.”

Your answer makes his grin widen as he climbs back up on the bed. “I figured, but that’s okay, because…” Sam pulls your pants off of you, groaning when he sees that you’re wearing the black thong like he asked. He moves so that he’s kneeling around your legs and runs his fingers over the waistband of your panties. “It’s okay, _because_ ….”

_SMACK!_

You jump and gasp at the unexpected spanking, and Sam rubs your skin. “Because I get to do _that_. Right, little girl?”

After a quick and surprised intake of breath, you moan, “Yes, Sam.”

“Good girl.” He rubs your ass some more, and when he hears your muffled breathing speed up, Sam tells you, “You can turn your head back to the side, but I want you to stay still.”

Before you can answer him, Sam’s hands slide up the backs of your thighs, palming your ass with his huge hands. When his hands come back down to do it all over again, he drags the blunt tips of his fingernails down your skin, grinning when you moan.

After doing the same thing for a few minutes, randomly letting his pointer finger slide over the soft and silky material covering your pussy, Sam hooks his finger around it and pulls it to the side. “This is the only time I’m going to touch you under this thong for a while.” He can’t help but let his lips curve up into a grin when you whimper just a little bit. “Remember on my birthday when I said something about getting you a different plug? One that you could wear _all day_?”

“Mmm hmm,” you answer through a moan, then gasp when Sam smacks your ass just hard enough to get your attention. “Yes, Sam. I remember,” you quickly answer, ignoring how much you want to look back and see the plug. You stay dutifully still, because Sam hasn’t told you that you can move yet.

“You can look, little girl,” Sam tells you. He knows you want to.

When you look back, you see him holding a much smaller and silicone version of the plug that he used on his birthday. It’s black with the same blue stone on the end.

Once he knows that you’ve see it, Sam drags it up and down the pink, handprint-shaped mark on your ass. “Feel how soft it is, little girl?” After you answer him, he continues, “Just like before, if it starts to get uncomfortable, or if you need me to add more lube, all you have to do is tell me.”

Sam pops open the bottle of lube that he grabbed from his dresser drawer, puts some on his fingertips and slowly rubs them up and down your tight, rear entrance. “I’ll go slow, but if you feel like you’re going to come and can’t take it anymore, just tell me. I’ll give you a break, but you do _not_ get to come today. Tell me why.”

The urge to rock back into Sam’s hand is almost overwhelming, but you stay still, groaning when the pad of his pointer finger breaches your hole.

“Tell me, little girl,” Sam repeats himself.

“Good little girls don’t come, Sam,” you answer quickly, feeling yourself drip just from the handful of words.

“That’s right, and I know you want to be good for me, don’t you?” Sam asks as he slowly starts to work the tip of his first finger inside of you.

“Yes,” your voice cracks, but swallow and try again, “Yes, Sam.”

“I know you do, little girl. This won’t take long. Two fingers.”

As slow and gentle as he always is, Sam works his first finger inside of you, then adds more lube, which gives you a much needed break. Trying to focus on not coming isn’t something new, but knowing that you’re not going to be able to come _at all_ , for some reason makes it even more difficult.

A gasp and low moan rips itself from your throat when Sam gets his second finger inside of your ass, and you can’t help but rock your hips when his other hand comes down and lightly traces the damp spot on your panties.

“I don’t know what it is, little girl,” Sam groans, using his free hand to hold your hips still. His grip is a little bit tighter than he’d normally use, but he’s making it a silent warning to stay still. “But you get so god damn wet when I do this.” As he scissors his fingers, getting you ready for the plug, he sees your toes curl against the bottoms of your feet and the faintest tremble on the insides of your thighs. It still blows his mind that you _could_ come from him just fingering your ass, but he still asks, “Do you need a break?”

“No, Sam,” you breathe, trying to distract yourself from your want. “Just-” Sam starts moving his fingers a little bit faster inside of you. “God,” you sigh raggedly. “Just do it. Please, Sam. Put it in me.”

“Just a little bit more, little girl.” He wants you to get to that edge at least once, because he really does plan on keeping your panties on you for the next while.

A heavy groan falls out of your mouth when Sam’s other hand adds a little bit more pressure to his light traces up and down your panty-covered pussy. His fingers find your clit and tease it as he moves his other hand, fucking your ass with two of his fingers. “ _Sam_ ,” you whine, feeling yourself grow even wetter. Just a little bit more, and you’d be right….

“Okay, little girl.” Sam carefully takes both of his hands away from you and starts to lube up the plug. “You’re doing _so good_. Almost done.”

When you squirm a little bit at the loss of Sam’s hands, he holds you still again, but this time he verbally reminds you, “No moving, little girl. If you can’t be good, you’ll stay right here for the next few hours, and you won’t get to make me come.”

With your mouth watering at the very thought of Sam’s cock in your mouth, you obediently put your legs back where he asked you to keep them, then moan when he eases in the tip of the plug. He works it in and out of you slowly, adding a little bit more each time he moves it, and by the time the thickest part is inside of your ass, you feel that heat light in your middle. “Saaaam.”

He stops moving the plug and gives you a few seconds, then tells you, “Breathe out, little girl.”

You do, and with Sam’s help, your body naturally pulls the plug into place, making you moan and whine even louder into your crossed arms.

“Good little girl,” Sam praises in a husky voice and moves the back of your thong back into place. He quickly wipes the lube off of his hands the goes back to rubbing your ass with his hands, loving the way the plug looks as it peeks out from between your ass cheeks.

After you breathe a few heavy and raspy breaths, Sam slides his body up yours, bracing himself on his knees and one arm. With his other arm, he reaches under you, puts his hand flat over the front part of your panties, and lifts you up, so that your ass is pressed against solid cock. “Do you feel how hard I am for you, little girl?”

With Sam’s hand so close to your pussy, it’s a struggle to keep still. Instead of moving your hips into his hand, you curl your toes into the bottom of your feet again and grip your crossed arms with your fists. “Yes, Sam.”

Twisting his hand, he slides his along the black material that covers your pussy, groaning when he feels how soaked you are. “God, you get so fucking wet when I use the plug. It would feel _so_ _damn_ _good_ if I fucked you right now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Sam.” You vigorously nod your head. “Please, Sam.”  

“No, little girl.”

Through your whimpers, Sam kisses his way back down your spine, down the thin piece of the thong covering the plug, and lifts your hips, as he spreads your legs, so that he can fit his face between them. You whine when he nuzzles your pussy with his face, smelling how much you want him and tasting it on his tongue when he gives your panties a lick.

Flicking his tongue over the soaked material, Sam uses his hand that’s cupping your pussy to thumb at your clit through the fabric. When he feels you start to shake with want, he takes everything away, then hears you whine, “I need to come, Sam. Please. _Please_ , make me come.”

“I will, little girl. I will.” He goes back to rubbing your ass. “But not today.” After you moan a desperate sound, he asks, “Does the plug feel good, little girl?”

“ _God_. Yes, Sam,” you sob into your crossed arms, crying out at the pressure and delicious stimulation when he presses on the base of the plug with his fingertips.

You whine when he takes his hands away from you, but then sigh when he climbs up the bed and sits down next to your face. He stokes the side of your head, lightly petting your hair, then carefully grabs you under your arms and pulls you up into his lap.

Sam knows that when he denies your orgasms like this, it fills you up with so much want and need, and it just _has to_ come out in some way. He lets you kiss him with a vigor that makes his achy cock leak down his shaft, moves his head to the side when you bring your kisses down to his neck and collarbone, and he then waits for one of his very favorite things.

“Sam,” you pant between pressing kisses and dragging your teeth along his skin. “Can I? Please, Sam, can I make you come?”

Sam slides his back down the pillows, groaning when your lips and teeth graze over his sensitive nipples. Before he answers you, he lets you suck one into your mouth, gasping when you nibble on it with your teeth, then move over to the other one.

“Please, Sam,” you beg again, _needing_ to make him come. You _need_ to taste on your tongue and feel him in your throat. “I want to blow you _so bad_.”

In your need, you bite at Sam’s nipple just perfectly, and his back arches. As he gasps, you kiss down the center of his chest, then look up at him. “I _need_ to, Sam. _Please_.”

“Go ahead, little girl,” he groans, holding the back of your head gently in his hand. “You were _so_ _good_ for me. You can.”

You sigh in relief, kiss and lick your way down Sam’s stomach and suck his solid and weeping cock into your mouth.

As you blow him, your needy and untouched pussy aches and drips in your panties, but Sam tastes _so good_ when he comes down your throat.

“ _God_ , little girl,” Sam sighs as he watches you eagerly lick his shaft and balls clean. “You’re _so fucking_ good for me.”


	3. Backdoor Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of your _possible_ week long denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backdoor Man is a song by The Doors. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Whoa, baby, I'm a back door man_  
>  _The men don't know_  
>  _But the little girls understand._
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by ladyataralasse. She's fab, and I love her.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [HERE](http://spectaculacular-sammy.tumblr.com/)

After quick trip down the hall to wash away the morning, you walk back into the bedroom. Immediately, you see that Sam’s not waiting in the middle of his bed, but clearing away the things from the top of his desk. You’re not sure what he’s doing, but when he tells you to wait for him where you are, you do as you’re told and watch intently.

Once Sam puts away the last stack of brown file folders, he takes off his shirt and tosses it on the bed, leaving him wearing just a low-riding pair of flannel pajama pants and a grin that tells you he’s in a particularly naughty mood. The sight makes your body flood with a rush of dizzying excitement and anticipation.

An instant later, Sam’s arms are wrapped around you, comforting and warm. Murmuring sweet – and dirty – things in your ears, he holds you and caresses your body. Once his quiet promises have made your head spin with want, he leads you across the room.

After walking you over to the desk, he reaches up and tilts your chin, so you’re looking up at him. His demeanor has completely changed. “Say it, little girl.”

A warmth fans across your skin that seems to be coming from Sam’s body; you love it. “Impala.”

He kisses you dizzy, then moves so that he’s standing behind you and starts to take off your clothes. Once everything has been cast aside, he slides his open hands over your new nakedness, humming his appreciation low.

A small whine slips out of your mouth when he doesn’t take away your thong with the rest of your clothes.

“I already told you, little girl. We’re going to leave this on for a while,” Sam reminds you and traces the barely-there piece of fabric. “I just like it too much, so why don’t you bend over the desk on your palms and elbows and show me a little bit more of those tiny panties.

After you do what you’re told, Sam’s eyes trail over your shoulders and back, look at the curve of your waist and hips, and stop at your ass to admire every single thing about it.

God, he loves these panties. He runs his finger up the back piece once, pats your ass gently when you arch up into his hand, then slides his fingertips up your entire body to the back of your head. Using gentle pressure, he has you rest your head down on the top of the desk, left cheek down.

Once you’re there, Sam lightly strokes your hair with his thumb and uses his other hand to nudge your thighs apart. You widen your stance and make your feet shoulder’s width apart, but he chuckles, “Even more.”

After he repeats himself two more times and guides your body exactly where he wants it, your widely-spread legs and bent in half body make you feel like you’re doing some sort of half-assed yoga position. Looking back at Sam, you make a face at him, showing him how much you’re _not_ enjoying his spread-eagle, downward-facing-desk pose.

He snickers softly, then guides your body into a slightly modified position. “Better?”

You sigh. “I look ridiculous.”

With zero preamble, Sam’s hand comes down on your ass, hard. “I think your sentence is missing a word.”

“I look ridiculous, _Sam_ ,” you rephrase with a petulant huff.

He spanks your ass again with the same force, making both sides of your ass burn with equal heat, but before you can even gasp, your burning ass is pulled tight against Sam’s groin.

“Feel _that_ , little girl?”

“Yes, Sam,” you moan when you can feel his _solid_ cock pressed against your skin through his pajama pants. All traces of your petulance are gone.

“ _Ridiculous_ isn’t the word I’d choose.” After really letting you feel how much you’re turning him on, Sam takes a step backward from you and slides his fingertips over the pink handprints on your skin, looking at you.

Over the last couple of days, he’s pictured you _just like this_ more times than he can count, but actually seeing you in this particular position is a million times better than any image he could conjure up in his mind.

“As beautiful, hot, and perfect as _my_ little girl looks…” He grabs a tight handful of your pinked skin. “I’m not done yet.” Sam lightly swats your ass and gives you a cocky grin when he sees you’re panting from his touches. “Be right back. _Don’t_ _move_.”

You’re left gasping, bent over the desk with your ass in the air, as Sam walks to the other side of the bedroom to the dresser. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him for the first couple steps, but then he’s out of your sight. Left with only your hearing to clue you into what he’s doing, you listen intently.

There are a couple of soft thumps, a light clang, and some rustling that you can’t quite identify, and before you can really concentrate, Sam’s back.

Next to your right arm, he sets down a bottle of lube, then brings his hand to the small of your back to draw lazy circles on your skin. “Do you need a break from the plug?”

“No, Sam.” You shiver when the blunt end of his fingernails find the fading, pink handprints on your ass.

“Are you sure?” Those same fingertips lightly dance over the thin strip of your panties that disappears between your ass cheeks. “You wore it most of yesterday….”

“I’m sure, Sam,” you choke out quickly, trying not to squirm from his touches.

Of course, he sees what you’re doing and rewards you with more of the same. As he does this, you hear the light clang and rustle again, but are too focused on obeying Sam and staying where you are to think too much about the repeated sounds.

“If you’re sure, little girl.” Sam sets the black, silicone plug next to the bottle of lube.

The second you see it, your ass reflexively clenches, and for the first time, you realize how empty you feel without the plug inside you.

Before you can think any more about it, Sam sets your favorite paddle next to the plug and bottle of lube. Surprised, you just stare at it for a second, and then when you remember to breathe again, you moan low and needy.

“Leather,” Sam tells you – as if you didn’t already know – and crouches behind you.

You can hear the light clanging sound again.

“About ten inches long and three wide. Mostly sting. A little thud,” he continues to rattle off facts that you already know about the thing that’s going to turn your ass the best kinds of red very soon. “Your favorite.”

You quickly recall the handful of times this particular paddle has come out of Sam’s arsenal. A shy smile stretches your lips, and you can feel your cheeks heat up.

You ignore the irony of your reaction.

“Page six,” Sam adds to his list of facts.

You have no idea what that means. “What?”

“I believe I wrote it on _page six_ ,” he clarifies with a chuckle. “Don’t you remember?”

“No, but that’s probably because you wrote _several_ things on _several_ pages, _Sam,_ ” you sass.

“So did _you_.” Sam grins to himself and playfully swats your ass. “And you’re pretty sassy for someone who’s immobile with their ass in the air and has a ten inch, leather paddle right next to them.”

Another smart-ass comment balances on the tip of your tongue, but then his words sink into your head. “I’m not- I can move, Sam. I’m not-”

The light clang grows louder, and you feel Sam start to wrap something around your lower leg. You want to turn back and see what it is, but he told you not to move.

“You can look, little girl.”

Keeping your upper body still, you quickly turn your head and look down at him.

Your eyes go wide when you see Sam holding a leather cuff around your ankle. The cuff is attached to two links of chain, which are connected to a long, metal bar with another cuff on the opposite end.

“Spreader bar,” Sam offers. “Remember what page it’s on?”

Gawking at him with a little shock and a whole lot of pleasant surprise, you shake your head and just barely choke out, “No, Sam.”

“Page two. The _New Purchases_ column.” He hasn’t buckled the cuff yet; he’s just holding it around your ankle. You okay’d it two days ago, but the shock on your face makes Sam have to ask, “Still wanna use it?”

Quickly, your mind fast forwards to the next hour or so. You picture yourself with your lower-half immobile – just like Sam said – with your favorite leather paddle in his hand, making your ass a delightful warm-hot red. Your legs will be spread by the bar, your arms and hands obediently placed in their designated spot on the top of the desk, and the only thing you’ll be able to do is _take_ what he gives you.

Because of your love for Sam and the absolute trust that you have in him, the notion of him taking things too far doesn’t even enter your mind.

Sam knows exactly how far to take you. He’s perfected it, and you want it.

“Yes, _please_ , Sam.”

With a deep groan, he kisses the back of your thigh and goes back to the cuffs. “Face back down on the desk, little girl.”

After you move how you’re told to, you can tell that Sam’s working hard to be gentle as he buckles the leather around your ankles. Once he gets the closures done, he checks and then double checks to make sure the leather isn’t too tight or too loose.

After the triple check, Sam verbally asks if everything feels all right. The second that you tell him that it does, he slowly stands up behind you, his hands skimming every single inch of the outsides of your calves and widely-spread thighs.

When his hands get to your waist and hips, you’re already lost in the meager things that are being done to you and in the thoughts of what _could be done_ to you, but when Sam reaches for the paddle that’s sitting right in front of your face, you’re paying very, _very_ close attention.

Holding it in his right hand, Sam traces the leather corner over the now mostly-faded handprints on your ass, groaning when you shiver. On the second pass, he uses his left hand to grab the back piece of your thong, then pulls the fabric tightly against your pussy. When he hears a low whine come out of your mouth, Sam takes his first swing.

It’s light, just a leather kiss barely hard enough to make your skin jiggle, but Sam watches you push your upper body harder into the desk and stick your ass out even more.

You look anything but ridiculous.

Because Sam likes to keep things even, he gives the opposite side of your ass an identical, light smack with the paddle. When you moan and sigh like the smack was a caress, he gives your thong another tug, just hard enough to make the fabric go between your pussy lips and rub against your clit.

The second you get the tiniest bit of stimulation there, your body jerks, and your right foot tries to come up off the floor, loudly rattling the few links of chain that connect the cuffs to the bar.

For a brief moment, Sam thinks you might pull on the bar too hard and knock yourself off balance. Just as he lets go of your panties to hold your hip and steady you, your foot goes back down to the floor, and your body goes still.

Sam gives you a minute to breathe, then asks, “Ready for more?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Taking the back of your thong in his left hand again, he pulls up a little, then hears you moan loudly just from that. “A little sensitive, huh, little girl?”

After he hears you answer affirmatively, he tugs a little bit harder, then starts to drag the soft, leather paddle up and down your skin. You’re moaning like crazy, but Sam’s focused on how you’re trying to get more by widening your stance, but the cuffs and bar firmly hold you in place.

Sam _really_ fucking likes this spreader bar. To be honest, he likes just about anything that will hold you still and let him drive both himself and you crazy, but there’s something about the spreader bar that he really, _really_ likes. 

As he appreciates the view in front of him – your body bowed and bent exactly the way he likes it – Sam brings the paddle higher up your thighs and taps it just once on your pussy.

When you sob in the way that makes his dick ache for you, he tells you firmly, “You _do not_ get to come today, little girl.”

Habit makes you whine a needy sound, but there’s that naughty, little place inside of you that loves knowing Sam’s going to drag out this sweet-torture for at the very least one more day.

Watching you closely, Sam sees how your body squirms in frustration, but he also hears the tiniest, little moan escape your mouth. Then, without prompting, you softly breathe, “Good little girls don’t come.”

Suddenly overcome with the urge to tug on your panties until they rip and push his weeping cock inside your deprived pussy, Sam forces himself to take a breath.

“That’s right,” he tells you when he can find his voice again and turns the paddle, so that he can rub the edge on your clit through your twisted and stretched panties. It’s a torturous reward, but when he sees your hands try to grab fistfuls of the desk’s smooth surface, he knows it’s still a good one.

Feeling the smooth side of the paddle slide up and down your panty-covered clit makes low and needy moans fall out of your mouth. Sam does the same thing for what feels like a beautiful eternity, and just when an echo of the faintest warmth flickers in your middle, the paddle disappears. There’s a fast, whooshing-sound behind you, then the paddle comes down on your ass, quick and stinging.

Whatever noise your body decides to make sticks in your throat when the paddles comes down again on the opposite cheek. It’s a sharp, loud kiss that blooms hot on your skin, followed by more of the same that you no longer have the brainpower to count.

After what feels like another leather-warm eternity goes by, you’re vaguely aware that you’re sweating and rocking in time with the swats that your ass isn’t getting anymore. You must be moaning incoherently too, because Sam shushes you soft and low and tells you to breathe.

Helpless to obey, you let out the breath that you didn’t even know was burning your lungs, but suck it right back in again when Sam’s hand makes contact with your ass. His huge palm gently rubs over your skin, and you sink into the warmth and touch.

As Sam’s hand passes over your ass, every once in a while, he’ll give your thong another one of those delicious tugs that really only makes your clit thrum even harder and makes your pussy clench around the nothing that’s been filling it non-stop for over twenty-four hours.

It’s certainly not the longest time you’ve gone without feeling Sam hot and thick inside you, but the second it crosses your hazy mind, it’s all you can think about.

You get just a moment to imagine Sam’s cock tucked solid and heavy in his pajama pants just inches away from the throbbing void in your pussy, and then the paddle is back. It kisses your skin with a staccato heat and sting that makes your mind fog over again.

Another eternity starts.

This time, Sam’s hand makes the paddle’s pace speed up, and with skillful flicks of his wrist, the leather meets not only your ass, but the backs and insides of your thighs too. There, the warm sting quickly turns into a biting heat, but the spreader bar holds your legs wide open, forcing you to take it.

You do. You let that heat wash over you and let it mix with the warm-velvety sound of Sam’s praises in your ear, and then it disappears.

A sigh slips from your mouth when Sam’s left hand snakes around your hip, but the sound quickly changes into a surprised gasp-sob when you feel one of his fingers slowly rub your clit through your panties.

Through the twisted and bunched up material, Sam uses the very tip of his finger to tease your clit, eventually adding a second finger and more pressure. Watching you and the blissful expressions on your face, he listens to the sounds you’re making, recognizing each one of them.

Sam continues to tease your clit, practically taunting it with the swirls of his fingertips this way and that, and when your moans start to get higher and your shaking legs begin to softly rattle the chain links on the spreader bar, he brings the paddle back to your ass.

Before he swings, Sam stops his fingers. You don’t have time to whine at the loss. The leather paddle collides with your ass in rapid and firm succession, four times.

The contact is hard. The blows leave four bright and shiny, rectangular shapes on your skin, which make you yelp and cry out from the sting, but when Sam starts to slide his fingers over your clit again, your cries change to frantic moans.

Three more times, Sam torments your clit in the most delectable way, only to take it away and replace it with the hot, leather lashes on your skin.

By the fourth time, he’s rubbing your clit and swatting your upper and inner thighs in perfect tandem. You can’t tell the difference between burn and bliss; it’s the perfect and intense combination of both.

It doesn’t take long and the precisely-timed perfection starts to make your entire body shiver. You can’t stop moaning and chanting Sam’s name, which makes it difficult to get a decent breath of oxygen. It’s delightfully intoxicating at first, but then your lungs burn along with the beautifully-stinging strikes on your skin, and just when the burn-sting-bliss starts to turn into something bordering on too much, it’s gone.

Sam knows exactly how far he can push you. He’s perfected it.

His hand rests heavy and strong on your hip assuring you that he’s there while you pant breathlessly and rock your body in time with the paddle that’s now resting on the top of the desk next to you, but you don’t notice it.

Everything is hazy and hot. When you gasp and whimper while Sam slides the back piece of your thong over your heated and spanked-tender skin, he murmurs something low and gentle that comforts you like it’s meant to. You relax as much as you can, but then whine when his touch is gone.

Time seems to drag on for a swelteringly flushed eon, then ends when one of Sam’s fingers rubs cool and slick over your tight rear entrance. The new and contrary sensation makes you melt.

Sam’s panting right along with you, chest heaving from exertion and want. He pushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes with one hand and uses his other to slowly coat your rim with the lube, groaning to himself when you almost instantly open up for him.

He absent-mindedly wonders if you’re this loose from wearing the plug most of the day before or if you’re just _that pliant_ in his hands after he turned your ass and thighs a bright and beautiful shade of red. Once he’s got his first finger pushed inside of your ass, Sam decides it doesn’t matter.

In front of him, you’re moaning and begging for more, trying to widen your legs and thighs and greedily take what you want, but the spreader bar and his hand on your hip firmly hold you into place. Gently shushing you, Sam slides a second lube-slick finger between your shiny, red ass cheeks and slowly starts to stretch you open.

Seeing your rim stretch around his second knuckles makes Sam think of specific and filthy-hot moment from his birthday. His cock must think of it too, because it blurts pre-come and adds to the damp spot on the front of his pajama pants.

Suddenly, Sam wants, and you’re literally begging him to take.

After withdrawing his two fingers, Sam adds more lube, gently works three inside you, and scissors them until he can fit four.

Throughout the whole process, you’re arching your back, making the spreader bar loudly clang and clink, and moaning some of the neediest and desperate sounds Sam’s ever heard. Still, he stops, takes his fingers away, and only circles the pad of his thumb around your stretched rim.

Then, he takes his hands away entirely and pulls away his last piece of clothing.

Once the plaid is swiftly kicked to the other side of the room, Sam drizzles more lube over your hole and up and down his cock. Both you and he are so sensitive that you moan even more at that, and Sam’s cock bobs eagerly at the slippery addition.

As he takes his impatient cock in his right hand, Sam strokes his left one up and down your back. “Remember, little girl, you _do not_ get to come today.” To make sure that you’re paying attention to him, he adds, “Tell me why.”

“Good little girls don’t come,” you raggedly moan as you sluggishly steal a quick peek at Sam. When you see him fisting his slick cock, your body sags, totally and completely pliant.

“Good girl.” Sam slowly pushes the swollen head of his cock against your slightly-gaping rim, gasping and shouting in surprise when your inner muscles yield to him. “ _Very_ good girl,” he purrs gravelly, lightly rolling his hips and stretching that same depth over and over before pushing into you further.

He’s in awe with how your body makes room for his so quickly. It takes only a small amount of pressure and a few more drizzles of lube, and Sam finds his dick practically sucked into your needy hole, his groin is flush with your crimson ass.

When he’s there, for the first time, he sees one of your hands come up off the desk. He reaches for it, threads his fingers with yours, and pushes it back down on the shiny, wooden surface, then does the same with your other hand.

With his body draped over yours, both you and Sam groan when heat is passed back and forth from his body to yours. That heat radiates from your ass into the fronts of Sam’s thighs, and the sweat-slick front of his body pours it right back into you.

As the continuous exchange of molten body heat goes on and on, Sam uses the weight of his own body and holds you down on the desk and starts to roll his hips. It’s hot, slick, and impossibly tight where your insides cradle every inch of his solid cock, but he takes it slow, takes you slow.

Regardless of his unhurried pace, Sam can feel you start to shake under him. Your fingers clench his tighter than your ass grips his cock, and he knows that regardless of how good you want to be for him, if he keeps up with his torturous pace, you’re not going to make it, but neither is he.  

Wanting to breathe in your sweet warmth when he empties himself deep and slick inside you, Sam buries his face in your sweaty hair and takes a deep breath. When he gets a lungful of what he wants, he starts to roll his hips harder and faster.

“Just a little bit more, little girl,” he grits out soothingly in your ear, willing you to hang on.

The spreader bar knocks bruises into his ankles when he pumps into you with a force that makes your lower body bounce between his and the desk. The slight pain combined with the strangulation of his cock and your breathy moans quickly tips Sam from the point of _right there_ to coming so hard your tight ass almost hurts, but hurts in all the right ways.

Giving you soft and gasped praises for anything and everything, Sam slowly continues to fuck your ass through his aftershocks, making sure he’s emptied all of his load inside of you.

After a short minute, Sam can tell you’re nearly out of your mind, so he carefully slips his softening cock out of your ass, but before what he’s left behind can trickle out, Sam reaches for the black, silicone plug and slowly pushes it into place.

Sam knows that keeping the evidence of his orgasm inside you, while yours has been denied, could be considered cruel to some, but he knows without a doubt that you like it just as much as he. You _begged_ for it on his birthday, and it’s in the notebook more than once – in both his handwriting and yours.

There’s a primal side of Sam that rarely comes out as blatantly as this, but he can’t deny how much it turns him on knowing that your ass will be full of his come and how you’re going to feel him there for the rest of the day.

Once he’s finished sliding the plug into place and the shiny, blue stone twinkles up at him, you give out one last low and ragged moan, and Sam knows you’re gone. Lying prostrate and limp on top of the desk, Sam is fully aware that you’re flying high in your own mind, lost in a haze of endorphins, carefully but heavily laced with need.

After taking a moment to catch his own breath and mostly stop his own body from shaking, Sam sets to work on opening the leather cuffs. His nimble fingers open them both in seconds, and in another he’s got you gathered up in his strong arms.

The soft bed is a happy change in comparison to being bent over the desk. Sam was only there for a short time, but you weren’t, so when he lays you down on the sheets on your stomach, he gently works his thumbs into the muscles covering the small of your back.

A smile curves up the corner of his mouth when tiny sounds escape your lips, and he presses a soft kiss into the place where his thumbs were, then moves on to gently massage your thighs and calves, no longer stretched and contorted from the spreader bar.

More soft, whispers of sounds come from your mouth over the next while, when Sam wipes away the smeared lube on your ass and gently pulls away your panties. When he sees how soaked they are, his cock twitches in interest, but he ignores it and focuses on making you clean and comfortable.

Once he’s carefully rubbed some soothing lotion on your ass and thighs – not the Icy/Hot without the hot, because he knows it’s really, _really_ cold – Sam drinks some water, cleans up himself, and settles into bed next to you.

After what seems like an incredibly lengthy amount of time passes – where Sam would  _gladly_ watch you in your sleep-like daze – your eyes slowly flicker open and look at him.

“Hey.” Sam smiles at you and strokes your hair out of your eyes.

“Mmm,” you answer, physically incapable of offering much more, but you somehow find the strength to move closer to him.

He helps you, then buries his face in your hair, sighing when he smells you sweet warmth all over again. God, you smell amazing. “Do you need anything? Blanket?

Your brain’s still pretty fuzzy, but you know you don’t want a blanket. You clumsily shake your head. “Hot.”

Sam offers you water and all the things that you typically want after you and he play. Most you decline, but when he offers the Icy/Hot without the hot, he watches your entire body sigh in relief.

He’s got the bottle sitting on the end table next to the bed, so it’s an easy reach, and he can do what you asked in just a moment. After Sam squeezes some of the gel onto the palm of his hand, he gently warns you that it’s going to be cold, then spreads it over your reddened skin.

You hiss at the first light touch, but Sam watches you relax into it a split-second later.

As he rubs the gel on your ass and the backs and insides of your thighs, he checks to make sure that there’s no bruising or raised welts. There’s not, just an even red surrounded by pink that fades out into the natural color of your skin, but as he casually inspects, he notices that your hips start to slowly rock into the mattress.

“Feel good?” Sam wonders as he watches you.

“ _Everything_ feels good,” you groan, and Sam can’t decide if you sound needy or miserable.

“Want me to stop?”

“Nooooooo,” you breathe in a long and drawn-out plea.

“Okay.” Sam wills his dick not to fill as your neediness turns him on; it doesn’t work. “I won’t, baby. I promise.”

You sigh in relief and don’t fight your body’s natural urge to continue rolling your hips against the soft bedding below you.

Once the Icy/Hot without the hot has dried and soaked soothingly into your skin, Sam keeps dragging his fingertips up and down your body. You keep writhing next to him, and as much as he loves the sight, he doesn’t want you to suffer too miserably in your denial. “What do you want me to do?”

After his question, Sam watches you pause and go still for a beat. Then, the beat passes, and you just barely turn your head toward him. When Sam can see your face, there’s an innocent smile curving your lips, but there’s also a dark and filthy look in your eyes. “You _know_ what I want you to do.”

Pretending that your wanton look does absolutely nothing to him – it fucking does – Sam chastely kisses your smile. “You want me to make you come.” It’s not a question. He knows you do.

Habit makes you beg, “Please, _please_ ,” but that naughty, little place inside you hopes and prays that Sam says _no_.

“I will, baby.” Sam carefully pulls your body on top of his, groaning when your thighs slot around his hips in the most perfect way. “I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard, you won’t know your name.” He pulls your face down, so your panting mouth just barely touches his and raggedly whispers, “But not today.”


End file.
